


food can mend a broken heart

by theoneinquisitor



Series: tumblr prompts [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Break Up, Enemies to Friends, Food, Heart Break, Modern AU, Multi, Oneshot, Prompt Fill, bellamy blake being a goddamn chef, to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneinquisitor/pseuds/theoneinquisitor
Summary: Prompt: i know you can’t cook for shit so i’ve been bringing you dinner every night, just, y’know, to keep you alive.  oneshot.





	food can mend a broken heart

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fill.
> 
> All my work is completely un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. I hope you enjoy! Also, chef!Bellamy amirite?!

“Are ice cream sandwiches a food group?” Bellamy is frowning at her from the front door, eyeing the wrappers currently scattered across her coffee table. 

She answers him with a glare while taking the last bite of the delicious treat. Okay, so it might be her third one today. And maybe it’s all she’s eaten over the last couple of days, but she deserves it. After all, she’s going through some shit and coping has never been her best skill. 

He sighs and collapses onto the couch next to her. She tries not to look at him. She can feel his eyes on her, watching her like she might melt into a puddle of tears and ice cream at any moment. All of her friends have been looking at her like that, pity and uncertainty. She’s come to expect it, although she’s surprised to see it come from him. They hate each other, he should be happy to see her so miserable. 

“What do you want, Bellamy?” she grumbles out, not even bothering to pause the current romantic comedy playing on her Netflix account. She’s been slowly cycling her way through the category and this one isn’t terrible. A little cheesy, but not unbearable. 

“Just coming to check on you, Princess,” he throws his feet onto the table and leans back, making himself comfortable.  

“Come to check on me or come to gloat?” The second seems more plausible. Ever since they met four years ago, it’s been nothing but hostile arguments and biting remarks. She can’t stand him, but tolerates him mostly for Octavia’s sake. It’s her best friend and even though he’s a complete jackass, she knows how much Octavia loves him. But there’s really no other reason for him to be here other than to rub it in her face that her girlfriend broke up with her and moved out of the country. She can practically hear him now,  _ wow, you’re so terrible not only did she leave you but she couldn’t stand being in the same country as you!  _

“I can be a jackass sometimes but I’m not heartless,” he defends and she swears she actually detects a hint of sincerity in his voice. Enough to make her turn and look at him and she notices his eyes don’t hold the typical malice they normally do. No, they’re actually...well, she doesn’t exactly know but she’s never seen it before. Not even during their more intimate moments.

She turns her attention back to the television. Even if he were being nice, it doesn’t make up for the years of constant harassment. From the moment they met it’s been nothing but endless, pointless arguments about everything from how to tie shoes to the deepest questions of the universe. It got so bad at one point, Octavia refused to go in public with both of them at the same time. Raven once told her it was built up sexual tension because they are both very attractive individuals who somehow get off by arguing with each other. Clarke vehemently denied it because clearly, he is just an insufferable douche and she, as he so eloquently called her once, is a spoiled brat. 

Things have a natural way of biting her in the ass, though. Not two weeks after the conversation with Raven (which was about two years of mutual loathing at that point) she and Bellamy found themselves tangled up in each other as so predicted by her friend. She’d be lying if she said the sex wasn’t amazing. It definitely was, but even after a drunken night of amazing sex, they still couldn’t talk for more than five minutes before it turned into another argument. Hypothesis, null. They hooked up a couple of more times (she was in a dry spell and really had no desire to go home with strangers) and everything stayed pretty normal. Until it wasn’t.

She met Lexa at one of her mother’s gala’s. On the fast track to becoming the next great surgeon, she of course attended the gala to network and meet other great surgeons. It was all a little overwhelming for Clarke, but they met and hit it off. She had thought their relationship was great, they were in love and talking about moving in together. Then, two weeks ago, it all changed. Lexa came over and without any warning, broke things off. She got the opportunity to study abroad in England and had to take it. She didn’t want to put their relationship under the strain of long distance and just...ended it. It didn’t really register at first. She went to work and came home. She went out with her friends and shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Then she got her dream job, being a curator at the MFA, and she pulled out her phone to call her. Then she remembered and it’s been downhill since then.

Feeling the familiar sting behind her eyes, she stands up from the couch, “Want ice cream?”

Bellamy pulls his feet from the table, small flecks of dirt falling onto it. Normally, this would lead to a fight (and maybe that’s what he was hoping for) but right now, she just didn’t feel like it. She shuffles to the freezer and grabs the box of sandwiches. Only two left. Resigning herself to her own pity, she grabs them both and tosses the box onto the counter (she’ll get it later, okay). 

“No,” Bellamy is beside her before she can even blink, yanking the small items from her hands and throwing them back into the freezer, “You have to eat a meal, Clarke.”

She crosses her arms and huffs (she’s five), “I’m a grown ass woman, I can eat whatever I want.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, “Why don’t you act like it!”

She feels the familiar flare of frustration and irritation in her chest at his condescending tone and bites back, “I can do whatever I want, so you can stop trying to fucking mother me.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you would fucking take care of yourself!” they’re yelling again and it feels almost normal. The way things were before Lexa. Before the break up. It’s still all so new, though, and right now normal doesn’t feel right. Not yet, at least.

“Whatever.” She hates how defeated she sounds. 

“Seriously?” he almost seems disappointed in her, like he expected a lot more fight. 

She throws her hands in the air, the crack in her voice giving away the emotion she had been determined not to feel, “Why did you come here, Bellamy? To question my diet and try to pick a fight with me? Great, you did. Now, you can go.”

Fuck emotions. Fuck these stupid tears. She doesn’t cry, especially not in front of people. She wipes furiously at her eyes and puts as much distance between them as she can. Unfortunately, her apartment is small and walking to the other side of the kitchen doesn’t do much. He takes a few steps and he’s right back in front of her. Too close. Too personal.

“Look,” his voice is much gentler now and she sees his hand twitch like he wants to wipe the tears away for her but thinks better of it,  “I’m here because everyone’s worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

That catches her off guard. Bellamy Blake is worried about  _ her.  _

“Octavia said you haven’t been eating,” he continues and before she can argue, he cuts her off, “Those don’t count.”

“Ice cream definitely counts,” she argues half-heartedly, but even that sounds pathetic. So maybe it’s not the best diet but going to the grocery seems like an impossible feat and she’s always been a terrible cook.

He rolls his eyes at her, clearly unfazed by her less than stellar comeback, “I’m ordering Thai.”

“Good for you,” she growls but doesn’t protest. An hour later, she’s next to him on the couch devouring her curry puffs and watching history documentaries, her slight breakdown forgotten. She knows he wants to ask her about it, but somehow he knows better. He knows her pretty well, actually. Things don’t feel okay. But they don’t feel bad either.

And that’s how it starts. 

 

*

Suddenly her worst enemy is a constant presence in her life. She chalks it up to his incessant need to parent everyone. He makes sure everyone makes it home from the bar, fixes peoples cars, appliances, and apparently, hearts. Oh, and he also feeds you if you’re too incompetent to cook (which she is). At first she thought it was just a fluke, that maybe he just did a favor for Octavia and would leave it alone after that. Yet, every night he shows up at her door with a bag of homemade meals in his hand for her. She feels like she’s in some parallel universe, one in which her and Bellamy are, dare she say,  _ friends. _ They eat dinner together but more than that they actually have civilized conversations. Some nights they just turn on Netflix and watch history documentaries, mostly to repay him for keeping her satiated. Other nights they talk for hours about anything and everything, ranging from his sister to past memories to all their hopes and dreams. 

“I start work next week,” she tells him one night after finishing her last bite of lasagna. Bellamy made it himself, so he claims (though, she swears it’s a Stoffers). She lays her tupperware on the coffee table and leans back with a satisfied sigh. 

“You nervous?” he’s still working on his food, sucking a noodle obnoxiously through his lips. Disgusting. 

“Kind of,” she pays his gross eating habits no mind, “But happy more than anything. These last few weeks have been, uh, unproductive to say the least.”

She hadn’t meant to lounge around her apartment during her time off. She had quit her old job early so she could prepare for the new one, thinking that maybe her and Lexa could take a short vacation. That, obviously, was a poor choice and instead of laying out on a beach somewhere, she laid out on her couch in the same pajamas. 

He’s quiet for a moment, finishing the last of his food before moving to grab the dishes. He scoops her container up and adds them to the dishwasher. After a moment of quiet frustration at the piece of junk, it rumbles to life. 

“It’ll be good for you,” he says rejoining her and adjusting his feet on the table, this time bare of any mud tracking shoes, “Being busy and stuff.”

IT’s true. The worst part of all of this has been being to stationary. Anytime something big happens in her life, her go to coping method is to throw herself into her work. When her dad died, it was school. When her and her mom had a falling out, it was Lexa. Now she’s stuck with nothing specific to keep her busy and because of that, this breakup has been a lot harder. She’s had to face her feelings and really, truly feel everything about it. 

“Yeah,” she murmurs, falling deep into her thoughts. He seems to notice because he nudges her with his elbow and watches her with concern (there’s that damn concern again).

“I know you don’t like to talk about feelings and shit,” he describes her perfectly, “But if you ever do, I’m here.”

She feels a twinge of gratitude for him in that moment. Of all the people to be here for her, to reach out, it’s him. She never would have seen this coming, especially after their brief ‘enemies with benefits’ thing.

“Thanks, Bell.” 

He doesn’t push it. They watch their documentary and he leaves. This time she gives him a thankful squeeze on the shoulder as he goes. He gives her a smile.

 

*

She takes him up on that offer hardly a week later. He’s standing in her kitchen, cooking something that smells  _ amazing  _ for dinner. She’s just finished her first week of work and had been feeling really good about things. She had breakfast with Raven this morning and they caught up on all things gossip and Raven’s new love interest. Though, Raven doesn’t believe in love so she refuses to acknowledge it.

“He’s hot and I’m hot,” she said nonchalantly, “We’re supposed to bang and that’s it.”

The weather was nice today, sunny and mild despite it being the end of July. Her mood is high, really and truly high, but of course something always has to ruin it. 

“Oh fuck you,” she blurts out suddenly. She has her phone in her hand, casually scrolling through instagram and waiting for her food. 

“Tried that once,” Bellamy answers without hesitation, thinking she had been talking to him. 

She wished she were. Instead she’s staring at her phone, feeling a myriad of emotions overcome her. He seems to notice her lack of response and immediately walks over to the couch to check on her.

“Clarke?”

She hadn’t even realized that tears had begun to well in her eyes until one drops onto her chin. 

“It’s not fair,” suddenly everything is too much and she tosses her phone onto the floor (it’s carpet, thankfully), “I’m the one who gets screwed over and she gets everything she ever wanted.”

He catches on then, realizing who triggered her emotional outburst. He regards her carefully, deciding maybe it’s best to stay silent. She fills it.

“I did everything she ever wanted me to. I sacrificed everything for her. My friends. My mom. My job. All of it. And when she wanted something she never even thought about my feelings. She just did it.”

She’s upset. She’s pissed. She’s annoyed. She’s...everything. She loved Lexa, truly, but looking at her now (posting about being in Europe and loving her life) it’s like everything was one sided. When Lexa wanted to hang out, Clarke would drop everything for her. She would ditch her friends. She would call into work. It all seems pretty bad, in retrospect, like Clarke was always just a temporary stop for her while Clarke had been head over heels.

“Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she continues, speaking her thoughts aloud, “That’s part of what attracted me to her, her fierce independence and how adventurous she is. I should have known it would never last. We wanted different things. I wasn’t enough to make her stay.”

“Hey,” he places a hand on her arm, begging her to look at him. When she does, she can tell he isn’t judging her or even pitying her, he’s just...supporting her, “Lexa has a lot of good qualities. But if she didn’t see how amazing you are, that’s her fault and not yours.”

She chuckles a bit at the sentiment. It’s hard to believe that Lexa would have any faults but she knows he’s right. Maybe they just weren’t meant for something great and that’s okay. She’ll be okay. 

“I never thought I would be this girl,” she admits to him sadly, hating how vulnerable she’s been over the last few weeks. She’s supposed to be tough. Level headed. Not a tearful mess.

“You’re not invincible, Clarke. I know you like to pretend you don’t have feelings but it’s okay to have them.”

She sniffles for good measure and he laughs, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody you have  _ actual  _ emotions.”

SHe punches his arm playfully and he feigns hurt. Just like that she feels lighter somehow. She feels like she’s mending.

 

*

She makes it out to the bar exactly two months after the big break up. Everyone is there because of course Octavia wanted to make this a momentous occasion. Celebrating the return of Clarke or some shit. She feels lighter today, having settled into her new job and finding that she really has a knack for curating. Bellamy is at her place close to every day of the week, still cooking for her and hanging out. SHe gave him a key to her place not long after she started working. He’s on break from teaching for summer and mentioned having issues with his roommate. He spent a lot of time there anyway so she figured she might as well. 

“It’s so I can have a hot dinner waiting on me when I get home,” she told him with batting eyes and a sickly sweet smile.

Life is going well and being here with all of them isn’t overwhelming like it might have been a month or two ago. She feels happy. 

Bellamy is next to her and offers her a shot of whiskey and clinking his own with hers. She grins and takes it gratefully, loving the way it burns her throat as it goes down. She dances with Raven and Octavia, until the younger Blake is hauled away by her boyfriend for a quick make out session. Bellamy promptly makes obnoxious gagging noises at the sight.  

“She’s in love,” she smacks him on the arm, “Leave her alone!”

The night feels like they used to. Everyone talking and dancing and laughing with each other. Even Murphy showed up for her welcome back AND bought her a drink. That alone makes her want to tear up. At some point she ends up alone with Octavia, Lincoln having detached himself from her hip to grab drinks at the bar. They sit across from each other and finally Octavia decides to pounce.

“What’s going on with you and my brother?” Leave it to Octavia to never beat around the bush.

“What do  you mean?” Clarke knows exactly what she means. It’s not like it’s completely normal for Bellamy to a)  be nice to her and b) have a fucking key to her place. She can admit, it looks a little suspect. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she mocks, “Maybe how  _ nice  _ you all are being to each other. Last time we were all together I had to ban you two from being in the same bar!”

Clarke laughs at that and shrugs, “I just got tired of fighting, O.” 

Octavia isn’t buying it. She crosses her arms and kinks one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows, “Sure.”

She sighs and glances over to the bar where Bellamy has just become engaged in one of his intense stories. He’s talking to Miller and Murphy, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“We understand each other more now,” she’s trying to be vague as possible. No one wants to admit that their former rival actually saved their life. Okay, maybe that’s dramatic, but her nutrition would be seriously lacking if it weren’t for him. And he had been extremely supportive in her break up, something most of her other friends can’t say. She can’t blame them for that. She didn’t reach out to anyone. Bellamy just happened to force his way in with food. 

“Whatever the fuck that means,” Octavia sighs in defeat, realizing she might just have to torture the information from her brother herself, “I’m just glad we can all be here together without you all embarrassing us.”

The rest of the night is relatively calm and by the early morning, she definitely feels the weight of all the drinks people bought her. Their goal had been to get her drunk and they absolutely succeeded. Bellamy offers to get her home safely and she accepts without a second thought. As they say goodbye to everyone, she notices Octavia watching her with a knowing eye. She chooses to ignore it.

*

“My sister seems to think there’s something going on with us,” Bellamy says bluntly as they enter the apartment. She’s feeling pretty light headed. Her tolerance has severely gone to shit and she had more drinks than anticipated. 

“I know,” she replies, kicking off her shoes and flopping onto the couch with a loud huff, “She cornered me at the pub.”

“What did you tell her?” he’s currently digging through her fridge, no doubt looking for food. He’s always been the kind of guy to get the munchies after he drinks. 

“I just told her we came to an understanding.”

He hums in response and joins her on the couch, handing her a bottle of water and chugging from his own. He wipes his mouth and turns to her, “I bet she loved that.”

She laughs, remembering Octavia’s look of pure annoyance, “You know she can’t stand not knowing things.”

“That definitely explains why she was asking me twenty questions.”

“Oh no,” she giggles.  _ Fucking giggles. _

“Oh yeah,” he says with a fond smile, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I hope you don’t mind, but I told her I was keeping you alive.”

“Keeping me alive?” it doesn’t process at first.

“Face it, you’d be dead without my food,” he jokes and she can’t help but think of how true it is. SHe’d been on a diet of both not eating and eating junk. It definitely wasn’t healthy. He really did step in when she needed it most. 

“I never did say thank you, did I?” she asks seriously and he shrugs.

“You don’t have to. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And she is. Okay, that is. Spending time with him has made the healing process a lot easier than it would have been. Sure, he fed her because she is apparently incapable of doing that herself, but more than that he was her support system. He listened to her talk about nothing and handed her Kleenexes while she cried.. All without judgement. He rubbed her feet on days her job had her running everywhere in an uncomfortable pair of flats. He never once made her feel like she was overreacting or pathetic. He... _ Shit.  _

“You’re a really good person,” she tells him finally, “I mean, like the best kind of person.”

He laughs again, deep and sincere. Her stomach flips at the sound and now she realizes she’s on a very dangerous path. But to be honest, she doesn’t care. 

“We should go out to dinner sometime,” it’s a stupid thing to say. Is she asking him on a date? Is she even ready for that? She’s an idiot. She closes her eyes to think for a moment and hates that even the deepest part of her mind she realizes she actually means it. She would like to go out with him sometime. Maybe not anytime in the near future, but when she feels totally and completely ready, she’d like to try it. She’s seen the best parts of him and the worst and still really likes him. Surprise.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says gently and she realizes she’s starting to doze off. Before she can fully get her bearings, he scoops her up into his arms and walks her to her room. Normally she’d fight it, but she’s pretty damn tired and a little buzzed (also, it feels kind of nice having him carry her to bed). He lays her down gently and pulls the cover over her. It’s an intimate gesture but she’s okay with it. 

“I meant it,” she says as he starts to move toward the door, “I’m not ready yet. But I will be and I’d really like to take you out to dinner.”

His answer is almost so quiet she can barely hear it, “I’m ready whenever you are. But you’re buying.”

“Deal,” she breathes and begins to drift off with a smile on her face. The last thing she remembers is the feel of his lips on her forehead. 

It’s funny how a little food can mend a broken heart. Yeah, just the food.


End file.
